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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022691">sweet tooth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie'>hikaie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, Other, Schmoop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:21:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The walk from the terminal out to the bus had felt untenably awkward; she’d thought in coming here the tension would all melt away, and that actually seeing Bloth would change her. As if her life was some kind of romantic comedy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bloodhound (Apex Legends)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sweet tooth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragmire/gifts">dragmire</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><i>Super</i> quick thing I wrote for a friend and then edited a wee bit for posting. Tags are pretty straight forward but it's just a modern-AU/LDR/first-meeting type thing? It's literally just fluff for the sake of fluff. Enjoy! Or don't, I'm not your mother.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The walk from the terminal out to the bus had felt untenably awkward; she’d thought in coming here the tension would all melt away, and that actually <em>seeing</em> Bloth would change her. As if her life was some kind of romantic comedy. Of course the two of them would stiffly walk an arms-length apart through the airport, chuckle quietly when she’d fumbled with her suitcase at baggage claim, and <em>both</em> stare at the bus as if neither could read Icelandic. …She <em>hoped</em> they could read Icelandic. They should be able to, right?</p><p>“<em>Elskan</em>,” Their voice was even. That was the biggest surprise- they had a sort of melodic voice, lilting and calming. She was already in love with it. She blinked at them and broke into a wincing smile, looking between them and the transit bay. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Y-yeah. Just, um.” She waved to the buses. “Wh- you- Icelandic!”</p><p>Both of their brows jump up and she nearly melts when they smile at her, their teeth showing. “Yes, they do appear to be in Icelandic. <em>Afsakið</em>, but we have a long trip ahead of us yet. There will be plenty of the language to see, I promise.”</p><p>Biting her lip and nodding, she follows them into the crowd and joins the queue for their bus. She nearly jumps when she feels their hand at the small of her back as they’re going up the stairs. As soon as they’ve assisted her their hand is gone; she realizes this and misses their touch almost acutely. They find seats in the back of the bus and settle in nicely.</p><p>“So.” The rainbow ribbon tied to her suitcase hangs over the luggage rack and she eyes it warily. “How long’s the ride?”</p><p>“Ah,” Oh. They <em>blush</em>. Video chat hadn’t done that justice, had it? She finds their hand; the gap between their thighs, the both of them sitting so stiffly as to stay apart, feels canyon-wide. Interlocking their fingers is a dare-devilish feat. They’re wearing leather gloves, and she wishes they had warned her, or perhaps that she’d been a bit more observant, because she’d forgone any handwear. “A… few hours. Are you tired?”</p><p>“A bit.” She admits, and looks away from their smile because it’s making her heart pound. Is she sick from travelling all day? Or is it being in this new place, with this new-yet-not person? The dinky little bus bathroom is across the walkway- easy access, she guesses, if she needs to throw up. “I’ll make it though. Best way to adjust to jetlag is just power through, right?”</p><p>Except, she doesn’t. After being lulled to sleep by the bus ride, she wakes up sometime later, eyes sticky and joints stiff. Her back hurts. Also, her head is on Bloth’s shoulder.</p><p>She jerks up with a soft exhale (<em>not</em> a snort, thank-you-very-much,) and peers over at them. They spare her a glance and finish chewing something before asking, “Did you sleep well, <em>kæri</em>?”</p><p>The unexpected endearment while she’s still not quite awake makes her knee lift in surprise; her foot hits the underside of the seat in front of her, and she meets the judgmental eyes of the other passenger in the gap between the seats. She clears her throat and catches sight of the small, dark jar in their hand. They’ve removed their gloves.</p><p>“Mmh… mhm.” She points at it. “What’s that?”</p><p>“Oh. <em>Lakkrís- </em>licorice. I am… pre...ferential? yes- to the salty kind, but this is a dark chocolate and coffee flavor. I thought you might like to try it.”</p><p>She stares at the jar, and then up at their face. It is impressively passive. She looks again at the jar and bites her tongue, then reaches out and takes one. Their smile makes it worth the fact that <em>she cannot tell them she doesn’t like black licorice</em>.</p><p>“It is a very popular snack, here. And hot dogs.” They say while she goes all-in and pops the entire candy into her mouth. It’s… interesting. Not like any licorice she’s had before. Still… weird.</p><p>“Hot dogs?” The candy is sticking between her molars, even as she asks.</p><p>“Yes! We will come back into the city, to have one properly.”</p><p>“I come to Iceland, and you guys eat hot dogs?” Her words escape her before a thought even pops into her head, and she covers her mouth abruptly. They blink a few times, and she thinks, <em>oh, no, oh fuck</em>, and then they’re <em>laughing</em>.</p><p>“Well, I thought we would start with something familiar before going right for the horse meat.”</p><p>“<em>Horse meat?!”</em></p><p>Disgruntled co-passenger shoots her a dirty look <em>over</em> the seat this time. Bloth is fairly in hysterics, shaking in their seat and smiling so beautifully it should be illegal. She ducks under the glower and collapses into her own seat, still covering her mouth but now because she’s laughing, too.</p><p>“Can I have another?” She asks, just slightly out of breath, and feels warmth rush from her scalp to her stomach at the little look they turn her way. Their eyes are crinkled, and she can see how grey their irises are, can see up close the little fly-aways escaping their braids.</p><p>“Of course. I did get them for you, after all.” They pass the jar to her and she scoops out one of the candies with her forefinger, popping it into her mouth and contemplating the flavor. No, still weird. Hmm. Maybe one more, just to see.</p><p>“They’re weird.” She says honestly. “But I like them?”</p><p>She lifts her eyes from the strange, modern packaging and again feels that heat at the soft smile on their face. Little by little she feels the discomfort dwindling away. “Bloth?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Their hand finds hers, again, and this time their fingers slide together skin to skin. Their palm is rough, but those spots between their fingers are the same as anyone, soft and interlocking. Hands were meant to fit, like this, though it seems especially right that theirs should come together so easily.</p><p>“I’m glad I came.” She murmurs, biting her lip and tilting her head into the fabric of the bucket seat, doing her very best to fight off the ridiculous, childish smile that wants to burst free. They don’t seem to have the same reservations, their laugh a soft huff of air, and then they’re leaning across the small space and <em>kissing her</em>.</p><p>“You taste sweet.” They reply, almost revelatory, right up against her stunned mouth. Her eyes are wide, and then they’re shut, and they’re laughing again, that nearly-silent chortle that she’s already growing used to. And she finds that prospect- of intimacy so normal and frequent there is the time to become accustomed to it, to find a comfort in it- so overwhelming and deliriously new, that it brings an entirely different smile to her face. She covers her eyes with one hand and shoves the candy back to them.</p><p>“Here, then, sweet tooth.” She manages, voice wobbly.</p><p>“Who said anything about the candy?” They tease, and she squeals when they lean in to <em>blow a raspberry</em> against the exposed part of her throat. Half of it is projected into the fur-lining of her jacket. When she meets the person’s eyes in front of her this time, nothing can wipe the grin from her face. Let them look. She’s finally with them. It’s all that matters, suddenly; all that’s mattered since she stepped off the plane.</p><p><em>So let them look</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Afsakið: My apologies<br/>Elskan/kaeri: endearments, like sweetie/my dear (if you haven't seen the first one yet I'd be shocked.)</p><p>Yes, licorice and hot dogs are actually popular Icelandic snacks. Please look up pylsusinnep, it's... something. (Also, yeah, horse meat. I shall ever endeavor to continue my trend of Bloth eating weird meat, but hey, at least this one's culturally accurate.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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